


a sinner's paradise.

by projectfreelancer



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Handcuffs, M/M, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 13:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10279415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectfreelancer/pseuds/projectfreelancer
Summary: gil succumbs to sins.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [worry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/gifts).



> completely self-indulgent honestly.

Gil knots the silk ropes delicately around Odin’s wrist. His teeth bites down on his own lip, and he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Odin’s wrist. “If you want out, just say so.”

 

When Gil looks to meet the boy’s eyes, he is looking to the side. Exhales an indignant huff. “R-right. This was my i-idea though, you know.”

 

Gil feels something devilish eat at his heart. His tongue glides against his lips, touching his hands to Odin’s face, moving him so the boy is looking at him.

 

“You’re so prideful,” Gil is saying, fingers gentle on Odin. “You wouldn’t ever admit to your idea being wrong.” And Odin’s eyes snap tight at the words, a blush rising on his cheeks. Gil is  _ in love;  _ knows he would do anything for this boy.

 

“That’s what I thought,” he says, and he feels—as if he should  _ be  _ nicer. But the blush upon Odin dives deeper, and Gil knows just how to affect him.

 

“You get off on this, right? Me, a  _ disgusting _ Titan follower, talking down to you.” Odin’s inhales are getting shakier; Gil’s hands drift lower, across his chest, down his shirt, settles in the betweens of Odin's legs. He curls his hands, pressing down, and Odin shivers. 

 

“You’re so easy,” Gil hums out, hands not stopping. Odin’s eyes are clamped shut, and that just  _ won’t  _ do.

 

He removes his hands, indulges in the way Odin whimpers from lack of friction. Gil says, “You’re going to watch me please myself first. And all in the name of Titan.” Odin’s eyes open at that, looking back at Gil, a mix of resentment and desire in them. Gil tosses on a bittersweet smile, curling inwards to press a heated kiss on Odin’s exposed throat.

 

His lips trail across his neck, occasionally biting down, accompanied with the symphony of Odin’s quieted moans. Gil thinks,  _ I want him to be louder, _ and removes his mouth.

 

Gil strips off his shirt, slowly, knowing the boy below him is watching. His pants come off next, and quickly afterwards, so do his boxers.

 

Gil is hard, achingly so, and he sees the way Odin looks at him. There’s sin blazing in his eyes and lust caressing his features. Gil feels his heart hammer from being so exposed, but as Odin whimpers a  _ gil, please _ , confidence comes alive in him.

 

“Just watch me,” Gil says, wonders if it’s a threat or a plea, but his hands grasp around his own cock, and all thoughts are lost.

 

He’s imagined scenarios akin to this before: Gil on his knees for Odin, Odin fucking into him, anything with  _ Odin&Gil&Pleasure  _ combined. He never thought of Odin staring at him as he does this, never thought of the way Odin’s teeth would graze at his lips. Gil swirls his finger on the tip and, lowly, moans out Odin’s name.

 

Gil’s knees are nestled on both sides of Odin’s waist. And he knows he’s on display—a perfect show just for Odin. “You like watching me,” Gil says, and Odin doesn’t respond, and Gil speeds up his hand movements. And when Odin still does not give an answer, Gil moves in close, hand never stopping, moves to his ear, whispers, “I’ve thought about you so much. You pinning me down and losing all control. You fucking me until I can barely breath, can’t do anything but beg for you. I’ve always known you were depraved, but to see just how much you are enjoying this,” and his other hand settles on Odin’s cock again, “I never knew you’d want  _ this _ .”

 

Odin tries thrusting his hips up at that, inhuman groan leaving his tongue, but Gil pushes down just as hard. “Don’t do that unless I say you can.”

 

That makes the boy whine ugly—needy—and joy swells inside Gil at the noise. The fact he can make the prideful heathen be so desperate just for  _ him _ . That is something Paradise lacks, something only Odin can provide him.

 

Gil sits back up, hands picking up their pace. But Odin, breathless, begs, “P-please, Gil, I n-need… something. A-anything.” And it’s desperation, and it’s sinful, and Gil feels heat flood him. Slows down his pace, wants to make this last longer.

 

“You are so needy,” Gil teases. He still feels— _ wrong,  _ about teasing Odin like this. As if his instinct is to heal, to fix, not to make into a whimpering mess. Pushes the thoughts aside. His fingers slide slick against himself. “You’re begging for me, for a follower. Doesn’t that make you just as bad?”

 

Gil imagines that Titan watches them, watches as Gil’s hands slide against himself. It’s blasphemous, unholy, but Gil finds himself dizzy with the thought. Wants to tease at Titan, say,  _ Not even my saviour could give me as much pleasure as this boy beneath me can.  _ His own hips thrust up fast at the thought of it, at the sacrilege. 

 

And he snaps back to reality as Odin says, voice shaky, “P-please, please, yes, I-I’m begging. Just let–let me  _ touch  _ you.” 

 

And Gil knows his own limits, knows with the way Odin looks at him with craving that he will not last long. So he unties the silk, lets it fall to the bed, and without even a blink, Odin has his hands on him, flipping their positions, until Gil’s pressed against the bed.

 

“Y-you said you th-thought about this, huh?” Odin asks, and he thrusts his hips down against Gil’s. “Pinning y-you down? Losing c-control?” And Odin is still desperate, his hips an unwavering fast pace, cocks sliding against each other. Gil feels the air leave his body, can only nod. Now Odin is the one to laugh, deep, saying, “I have too.”

 

Gil cannot control the whimper that escapes him at that. To know he has thought of  _ him  _ the same way Gil has. To know he has succumbed to lust, to temptation, to pleasure only in the name of Gil. Gil’s hands cross against Odin’s back, nails digging into the skin. Something about it must drive Odin further, his movements hastening, and his lips find Gil’s.

 

It’s not the candy-sweet kisses Gil had imagined. Not gentle, or kind. It is animalistic, devilish, and Odin’s tongue could make even the most godless words become holy.

 

The kiss does not last long, as Odin finds his teeth on Gil’s neck, biting harder than Gil had. Odin does not stop fucking against him with sharp thrusts of his hips, and as Gil begs, “ _ Harder,”  _ he hopes Odin takes it as a prayer. And soon warmth blooms inside Gil, and he is crying out Odin’s name, complete pleasure wracking his body. Odin is soon to follow, kissing at Gil’s throat the entire time.

 

Moments later, both of them still lightheaded, Odin’s hands drift across Gil’s neck, and he says, “You can t-tell me… one story about T-Titan.”

 

One story is not enough to save Odin’s sinning soul, but that does not stop Gil’s heart from blossoming at the way Odin looks so peaceful.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [for only he can heal me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10301654) by [worry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry)




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